Aunty Acid by Ged Backland for September 12, 2024

I’d throw some physics in but I need more numbers

I’m The Problem, It’s Me

It’s the week coming up to Christmas so we’re very busy. A woman arrives at register, no customary greeting or acknowledgment, with about six people behind her, and refuses to empty the basket herself. I am forced to lean over and take object by object out of the basket, scan it, then bag it.

She’s tapping her foot, arms crossed, watching every item with beady eyes to ensure I haven’t scanned anything twice and that the price is correct, etc. I finish in record time considering the extra effort.

Customer: “Why did you scan so fast?! You should have taken more time to make sure you didn’t f*** up!”

I am reasonably taken aback with her volatile temper, so I hastily check the screens to make sure I haven’t made a mistake. All is correct.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m in a bit of a rush with so many people. I can promise that nothing was scanned twice though.”

She does that head massage thing like she is so stressed.

Customer: Muttering. “I’ve just had the s**ttest day and having dumb f***s like you f*** around incompetently; I am just sick of it!”

She continues to rant and rave under her breath about having to deal with imbeciles, while paying and is about to grab her bags to leave. I have done nothing wrong, no mistakes, I’ve worked a nine-hour shift on my feet. I put my hands on the bags to help her and just say:

Me: “I’m sorry that you had a s*** day, ma’am, but possibly if you stopped being a b**** you could stop yourself from making someone else’s the same. Now here are your bags, get out of the store, please.”

If she complained or continued to rant, I blocked her out and dealt with the rest of my (thankfully much nicer) customers.

Some Certain Arches Have Some Explaining To Do

Customer: “What fillet is this?”

Me: “Fillet mignon.”

Customer: “No, like what kind of fish is this?”

Me: “…Your steak is beef.”

Customer: “This isn’t a fillet’o’fish?”

Me: “Fillet just means meat that has no bones in it.”

Customer: “Yeah! Fillet’o’fish has no bones!”

Me: “Would you like to order something else?”

Customer: “No, this fish is delicious! I just want to know what type of fish it is!”

Me: “…Cow.”

Customer: “Thanks!”

They ate up every bite of their cowfish.

Wait Until They Try The Ham And Malibu And Pineapple

Teen: Excited. “What ingredients are on the Margherita?”

Me: “Peeled tomatoes, mozzarella, fresh basil leaves, and extra virgin olive oil.”

Teen: Deflated. “Oh… so, like… no Tequila?”

Me: “Uh… no. It’s a pizza, not a cocktail. They’re not even spelled the same.”

Teen: “Do you really expect me to know how to spell Margherita?”

Me: “I don’t expect people to read “Margherita” on a pizza menu and think it’s a cocktail either, but here we are…”

It is a short drive!

You were a lady?

I didn’t think she had to go crazy.

I thought crazy was her normal setting.

Well, it’s not like she has far to go.

She’s the comic strip version of Dorothy Parker, or maybe Lucille Ball.

Gotcha beat. ZERO seconds!

Short fuse!!!!

Well, one out of two ain’t bad…

But hovers on insane 24/7.

Lady, start your engine!

Can’t we all?

B. freaking S. Aunty, you can’t go from something you’re not and you have never been a lady.

Someone whose button is so exposed is a person I’d like to avoid.

When do you ever get to the lady part?

“51% pussycat. 49% b!tch. Don’t push me.”

One time I was .03 seconds old.

In some circles, that could be considered an neural issue.

I can do it even faster.

Slowing down, eh?

I wonder what may be wrong: I only get yesterday’s strips everywhere- no new ones. Usually the new ones are here shortly after 7 a.m. Does anyone else have the same problem?

Lady? Please don’t insult the fair sex.

Warning: You are dealing with a High Performance Woman.

She can go from Zero to BIaTCH in 0.02 Seconds.